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narrative poetry

thou unrelenting past
three years ago today
high walls and huge
come down at dawn from windless hills
when i was broke in london
one sweetly solemn thought
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
i know not where
sweet with fern and rose
long ago, in the young moonlight
the air is full of dawn and spring
i love to steal awhile away
what spiteful chance steals unawares

 



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